


Establishments

by GrindingGears



Series: Building Bridges [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, Complicated Relationships, Consensual Sex, Developing Relationship, Establishing boundaries, Exploration of Bonds, Gestalt Bond, Gestalt Relationships, Interrupted Confession, Interrupted Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, More plot than porn, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Suspected Rape, no rape happened but warnings are there, rape mention, unspoken feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-16 00:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13624284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrindingGears/pseuds/GrindingGears
Summary: Since the war ended, Jazz and Prowl haven't had the chance to talk. Now they're doing more than just talking. But as they travel to Earth on the Ark-7, there are many things that still need to be said. Unfortunately, something seems to be standing in the way of the conversation they really should be having. Five things to be precise. All of them purple and green.





	1. Establishing Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of the Building Bridges series. Tagged for all chapters.

Prowl bobbed above him, sliding that wet heat down onto his spike in a desperate rhythm. The tactician's generally harsh face was softened in pleasure as he worked his hips, his mouth held open in a silent moan as he panted at the exertion. The usual tension in his frame was gone as he chased his pleasure, doorwings framing his delicious expression as they twitched with every push.

He stared down at Jazz, optics locked with the spy's visor. It had been a while since they'd done this, sometime back before they'd left Earth for the last time. Before everything had gone wrong. Then the war ended—actually ended—and the ex-head of special operations had left the planet, and the Autobots, to never return... Or at least so he'd thought.

Their last tryst and been like all the rest. They'd done it quick in one of their offices, the most common location for their rushed rendezvous. Who's didn't matter, lost in the litany of their hasty affair. It had been after a Decepticon attack or some other stressful event, their systems running high with combat and the need for release.

The moment had been over as quickly as it began, ungratifyingly satisfying followed by a quick wipe down before they were both back off to their ever present responsibilities. There had been no time to discuss half spoken confessions or dwell on whatever it was that had been building between them these last few million years.

Then with the war's end, their paths had diverged; nothing to bring them together without shared responsibilities. Prowl became immersed in the rebuilding of Iacon and what he had always been built for: maintaining peace. Jazz had left to find himself and a life not defined by war.

They'd drifted apart. Left each other and whatever it was that had been between them as just another necessity to survive it all. They both moved on to the new roles they had to fill and the new lives they were building. Jazz had tried to reach out once in an attempt to see if there really was something there they could build on. But he was only met with the familiar excuse of time constraints and obligatory responsibilities that he had become all too familiar with during the war, and Jazz had left it at that.

Perhaps it had been a mistake on his part. If he had pushed a little further, tried a little harder, maybe he would have noticed that something was off and Prowl wouldn't have been used as a puppet in Decepticon plots. But Jazz had learned long ago to leave what-ifs and could-have-dones in the past where they belonged.

They had both made their mistakes in the long run and Jazz alone could not be blamed for the breakdown in their personal communication. That had dismantled years, even centuries ago. If it could ever have been considered effective in the first place.

But things were different now. Prowl was himself again (at least as much as he could be), and they'd had time to talk. Not much. Not perfectly, But enough to get them were they were now. Which was something. Something that had a chance at an opportunity for the possibility of more.

Other things had changed too. Optimus and Prowl were having their little tiff and Prowl wasn't as trusted as he once had been, putting Jazz higher on the confidence ladder respectively than their previous ranking. Jazz wasn't sure how he felt bout all that, but he was pretty sure he knew Prowl's opinion on the subject.

There were other things too. Smaller things. Things that come with not having the weight of millions of lives so squarely set on you shoulders. Things that allow you to start letting go.

Oh... And there was always _that_ too.

Prowl's rhythm faltered at the sound, then slowed as he tried to find his pacing again, his optics dimmed in an attempt to ignore the noise. When the knock repeated itself not even half a klik later, Prowl's blissful expression was lost to a well practiced grimace.

"Ya want me to tell 'em to slag off?" Jazz asked rubbing his thumb at the seams in Prowl's left thigh.

"No!" Prowl grunted as he forced his hips down again, chasing his dwindling charge. Then repeated himself in a murmur as he came to a rest, his scowl falling into a distraught sneer as he eyed the door in suspicion.

"Hey man. If they're botherin' ya I can have a _talk_ with 'em," Jazz offered the distressed mech.

"No. They—" Prowl bit back a groan as Jazz's digit brushed over sensitive wires hidden just under the plating. "They need to learn— _ungh—_ to give me space..." Prowl trailed off into another series of moans as Jazz did his best to distract the mech from the trouble waiting for him outside.

"Well then," Jazz teased sitting up so Prowl was seated in his lap, "Why don't we make 'em known they aren't welcome?"

"What do you have in mind?" Prowl met Jazz's cheeky grin with a smirk of his own.

"Oh, ya know me. Full a' surprises," Jazz responded. Then making Prowl groan, he attacked the other mech's neck with his mouth, licking at the sensitive wires the tactician gladly leaned back to give him better access to.

Using his agility and veiled strength, Jazz guided Prowl back onto the berth, making sure not to catch the mech's sensitive doorwings as he maneuvered the frame they were attached to. With Prowl below him, Jazz took the chance to run his servos over those sensitive panels, kneading his digits into the soft material of Prowl's plush alt-mode interior. At the same time, he worked his glossa up past Prowl's audio to nibble on the mech's chevron, something he knew well the Priaxian would appreciate.

With Prowl thoroughly distracted from the rest of the universe, Jazz began a rhythm of teasingly shallow thrusts into Prowl's sopping wet valve. The slight stimulation making the prickly mech sing loud enough to let any Nosey Nightbeats who might be in audio range know he was well and truly _occupied_.

Jazz only got to hear a couple lines of that beautiful song before Prowl was pulling him down to meet their mouths in a desperate kiss. Prowl brushed his digits against one of Jazz's audio horns, causing the crafty mech to give a long moan of his own. Seeing his advantage, Prowl took the opportunity to delve his glossa deep into Jazz's mouth. Then using this distraction, he wrapped both of his legs around the agile mech's hips and pulled their pelvic plating flush together. At the sudden intensity of Jazz's spike fully seated inside him, the two mechs broke apart at the mouth, singing out in unison into the darkness surrounding them.

In the momentary lull in their duet that followed, Jazz looked down at the mech below him and was struck by the tender expression that had overtaken Prowl's face. He highly doubted the proud mech was aware of the warmth he was showing. This knowledge only stirred the buried emotions Jazz had refused to acknowledge for millions of years. Words that had been stuck just on the edge of his glossa rushed to the front of his processor, words he'd never quite known how to begin to say. But as Prowl lay there, showing him that beautifully soft smile no one else got to see, those words overtook him.

When the moment drew on and Prowl's smile began to morph into a look of concern at the pause, Jazz thought to do what he did best: go with the flow. But before the words could fully form in his voice box, a distinctive click echoed through the room.

"No," Prowl deadpanned, a look of horror overtaking any tenderness left in his expression. At the same time Jazz let out a incredulous "They wouldn't...".

But before Prowl could react and in defiance of Jazz's disbelief, a blinding light and five rowdy Constructicons barreled through the Ark-7 personal cabin's now unlocked door.


	2. Establishing Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Constructicons' interruption, Jazz and Prowl need to talk.

"I'm sorry," Prowl offered, a servo rubbing at he optics. He sat at the back of the berth, resting against the adjacent wall.

It had taken several kliks to get the Constructicons to understand that they were very much _NOT_ welcome in Prowl's quarters right now, the locked door apparently not being a clear enough marker of that fact. The entire encounter had kept threatening to get rather handsy on the Constructicons' part. With Prowl's panels still open and his arousal on display, Jazz had come very close to relieving someone of their servo had Prowl not made it equally clear that his assistance was also unwelcome.

Eventually Prowl was able to get the randy mechs to leave. But by the time they all trickled out, his passions had cooled and didn't look like they'd be igniting any time soon.

"Na mech," Jazz reassured his troubled friend, "You're not the one that needs ta apologize." An edge entered his voice.

Prowl removed the servo from is optics and wearily glanced over at Jazz sitting on the edge of the berth.

"They always treat ya like that?" Jazz questioned, his tone severe.

"No," Prowl automatically defended. Then in a small voice, amended his statement, "Yes... It's complicated."

"Doesn't look that complicated ta me," Jazz countered.

"It's the bond..." Prowl began in defiance before he trailed off, searching for words. "I'm not used to it. _They're_ not used to _me_."

"Doesn't mean they can come crashing in your private space whenever they want. Or start putting their servos all over ya when you obviously don't want it."

It took a moment for Prowl to respond to that, giving Jazz some time to start planning out his strategy for exterminating the purple and green infestation that had invaded the Ark-7.

"It's not obvious to them," Prowl eventually came to, then quickly continued at Jazz's unconvinced expression. "They don't see me like they see you," he defended, "It's the gestalt bond. They feel what I feel. They don't even need to be in the same room to know what mood I'm in or what I'm thinking. It's... unsettling sometimes. They'll offer me energon before I even realize my tanks are low, or bring me datapads from my office I've been thinking about retrieving."

Jazz was careful to pick his words.

"So because they can tell what your thinking and run errands for ya, they get ta barge in when your getting ya freak on just to try a pass at you?" Jazz asked unconvinced.

"No," Prowl reaffirmed, "They're just not.... used to sharing."

"I don't know mech. Sounds like a load a' bull ta me," Jazz argued.

"I've... We've been working on it?" Prowl offered, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than Jazz.

The two sat in silence for a klik, letting all that'd been said hang in the air.

"It's not all bad," Prowl muttered into the silence, almost like a confession.

Jazz looked over at him. The generally stern mech began to fidget, uncomfortable under the stare.

"Mech... Tell me they didn't," Jazz's voice was suddenly solemn.

"No! N-no," Prowl assured against Jazz's grim suspicion, but was unable to look at the spy as he continued "I... wanted it."

For the second time that night Jazz saw something on Prowl's face no one would believe: the tactician was blushing.

"Are ya sure mech?" Jazz pressed. "These things can be complicated. You were a cop, ya know that. Just because ya didn't say no doesn't mean they didn't take advantage of ya."

"I wanted it, Jazz. I did. Every time," Prowl was still blushing. But at least this time he was able to hold the spy's gaze as he spoke, despite how uncomfortable he obviously was.

The two sat together in silence again. Jazz filed away his extermination plans into a return-to-later folder, but left the operation pending.

"I understand if you're not interested anymore," Prowl abruptly spoke out.

"What?" Jazz responded, confused by where that line of code had originated.

"Any relationship with me is no longer a single commitment," Prowl elaborated, "I now... 'come with baggage'."

It was the first time anything had been said out loud by either of them about whatever it was that was going on between them, the first time either had spoken of something beyond serials one night stands and convenience frags, and Prowl was already dismissing it as an impossibility.

"Mech. Ya always came with baggage," Jazz countered with a laugh, "But that didn't scare me away then and it ain't gonna' scare me away now."

This time when Jazz looked over at Prowl, that soft smile was on his face again; Jazz felt like he was going to melt.

"So, you're willing to give this a try? Give _me_ a try?" Prowl asked, the blush creeping back onto his cheeks.

"I've been wanting ta give you a try for the last million years, but never found the right way ta ask," Jazz confessed, his own faceplates heating.

"Oh," Prowl responded, glancing down at his servos.

"Well?" Jazz asked after a beat.

"Hmm?" Prowl responded, confused by his question.

"Are ya willing ta give _me_ a try?" Jazz elaborated.

"Oh! Y-yes." Prowl responded, flustered, "Yes, I-I think I'd like that very much."

The two started at each other for a moment, unsure were to go from there.

"If the Cons can feel ya through the bond, can you feel them?" Jazz asked, seemingly at random. Then defended himself when Prowl eyed him with suspicion at the question, "What? I want to have an idea of what I'm getting into if I'm goin' have ta start thinking about 5 other mechs being involved whenever it comes ta you and me."

"Yes, I can feel them if they let me. Which they _often_ do," Prowl responded, sounding a little exasperated at the concept.

"Must be crowded in there then," Jazz offered, gesturing towards Prowl's spark as he scooted closer to the tactician.

"I can block them out if I try. Though sometimes it's hard to keep things from seeping through," Prowl responded. "At times of extreme emotion, it becomes more difficult to control."

"Like when you're in the middle of a really good frag?" Jazz asked, leaning into Prowl's field.

"Something like that," Prowl responded, a coy smile on his face.

"What are they doing now, if ya don't mind me asking?" Jazz questioned, trailing a digit up Prowl's leg.

"Interfacing," Prowl responded without skipping a beat.

"All together?" Jazz asked, servo coming to a halt at the frank reply.

"Yes." Prowl deadpanned. "I _did_ say they like to share."

"Do they always do it all together like that?" Jazz sat back a bit, unable to help his curiosity.

"They often participate in orgies when they think they can entice me to join or in order to distract me as a means of revenge when I do not act in a way they desire..." Prowl explained. "They can be very immature sometimes."

"Do _you_ always do it with all of them together?" Jazz asked, testing the waters.

If Prowl was still a cop, he'd probably have to issue himself a ticket for the speed at which the blush overtook his face.

"No," Prowl muttered, turning away so as not to have to look Jazz in the optics during this confession, "Though when one of them initiates interface, the others are generally not far behind."

A life of constant orgies. Once some boundaries were established, that was a something Jazz could get behind.

"So if they're all bumping uglies, and ya can feel everything they feel. You must be getting pretty heated under the hood there." Jazz concluded, running his servo up Prowl's side.

"You could say something like that," Prowl responded, leaning into Jazz's touch.

"And no one else here to help you with that little problem. Lucky me," Jazz murmured as he leaned in to press their lips together in a tender kiss.

It wasn't perfect or everything he could have hoped for, and there were still things to discuss. But, there would be opportunity enough for that in time. Right now, Jazz was going to enjoy making each Constructicon individually feel every dirty thing he was about to do to Prowl's frame. Let them have a taste of their own medicine.


End file.
